


An Evening Ride

by musiclover51593



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Marian Lived, My First AO3 Post, NSFW, One Shot, Robin Hood/Marian - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 19:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15079613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclover51593/pseuds/musiclover51593
Summary: Marian survives the trip to the Holy Land, the King is saved, the Sheriff is dead, and Robin and Marian talk about having a proper wedding...among other things.





	An Evening Ride

Marian had always been an excellent rider, preferring a simple blanket and girth with some loops for her feet to an actual saddle. She enjoyed the freedom and feeling every movement of the creature beneath her. The mare had been a gift from her late father, Sir Edward, and she cherished their bond.

Sherwood forest was always beautiful this time of year. The trees and flowers were in full bloom, and she knew every pathway, tree, and glade from her childhood adventures, when she wasn’t being taught the finer points of being a Lady, of course. Allowing the mare to pick her way when they came to forks in the paths, she relaxed and reveled in the growing twilight – it was more interesting this way, and she enjoyed the peacefulness. She thought about going back to Knighton, but couldn’t quite bring herself to return yet.

“Fancy meeting you here on a day like this!” Marian smiled to herself. She’d know that voice anywhere. Robin, her betrothed, perched in an old, gnarled oak in the clearing ahead, grinning. “Might I join you?”               

“Robin!” she beamed, “What are you doing here?” She urged her horse closer, sidling up along the tree trunk where he could shimmy down, straight onto the mare’s back. She leaned back and kissed his scruffy cheek as he settled his hands on her hips, absentmindedly stroking as they rode through the verdurous wood. “I was just hoping that you might have ventured out for a ride tonight That oak has always been your favorite.” He kissed the back of her neck, moving down her shoulder a bit. Lingering.

“Right…you just hoped I might ride past?”

“Okay,” he assented, “the gang was getting on my nerves. They’re always bickering, and sometimes I make excuses to come and sit here to get away.”

“Ah,” she sighed, relaxing into his strong chest. “Well, I do love that gnarled, twisty, old tree. And they do bicker quite a lot, don’t they? And besides, we have such happy memories secreted among the crags of its trunk.” He had proposed to her there, the second time around. She had said yes, of course, and they had spent more than one lazy afternoon lounging beneath it, and one evening, too. Shrouded in darkness, and learning, together, what they would have a lifetime together to perfect.

“What do you think of getting married there?” he asked suddenly. “Little John could do the ceremony, and we’ll have wildflowers and friends…” he hesitated to continue.

“Hmm…” Marian thought a moment, “And a feast and dancing, of course. I love it!” She reached up, finding his head, and ran her fingers through his hair over her shoulder. “It sounds perfect!” He nuzzled her hand, kissing her palm, and brushed her hair behind her ear. His other hand tightened on her waist and she turned slightly, their lips finding each other in a moment. She could feel his smile growing beneath her lips, and took joy in the simplicity of it all. They had been through so much together, and apart, in the last years. They had been to the Holy Land, saved King Richard, defeated the Sheriff. They even made peace with Gisborne, who had married Meg, Lord Thornton’s daughter, last season. It was an arrangement, of course, but Meg seemed to be making the best of it. Gisborne, too, seemed to scowl less than usual, even if he still preferred to wear black.

Her stomach fluttered at the thought of marrying the man she’d loved since she was a little girl. Or maybe the butterflies were because his hands had left her hips and were roaming a little more freely. She felt something else stirring too, behind her. Robin whispered her name. “Marian…” He started to pull away, but she silenced him with another kiss, this time far less chaste than their greeting.    
She let go of the reins, now resting on the trusty mare’s neck, and turned toward him more, putting an arm behind his neck and running one hand through his hair, the other admiring the sinuous arm about her waist.

“Marian,” he grunted again, softly, as her hands continued their explorations and affections. His hands were just as curious, reaching beyond just her stomach and hips. There was no way she couldn’t feel it now.

“Robin Hood,” she breathed into his ear. “King of my heart, my life, my love,” their eyes met in the gloom of the evening. “You are my best friend, and I will love you as long as I live.”  
“I love you too,” he whispered back, kissing her neck. That was it. She had to have noticed his hardness pressing against his breeches, onto her thigh.

“I have an idea.” She smiled coyly. “How’s your balance?”

“Um,” he faltered. Where was she going with this? His balance was excellent, and she knew it! “Good, why?”

She laughed softly. “Hold on to me.” Perplexed, Robin gawked as she turned and faced him, struggling a bit with her skirts. Now facing him, she put her legs on either side of the mare (sidesaddle was stupid) and, scooting closer, she tilted her chin up, kissing him and leaving him in no doubt about what she was doing.

“This is crazy!” He feebly protested. “You never know who could be out here…”

“Course I do!” she said between kisses. “You’re here, and I’m the Nightwatchman! Besides, you know as well as I that nobody lives near this part of the wood.”

“Are you sure about this?” he enquired, heart pounding in anticipation. Her breath quickened, and she responded with another one of her perfect smiles, untucking her shirt and drawing his hand to her breast, blushing at her own boldness. He kneaded gently, brushing the tip with his thumb. He kissed the side of her neck, abandoning any semblance of dignity, loosened the laces of her blouse with one hand and quickly ducked beneath it. He found her other breast and gave it the attention it had been denied, taking her into his mouth. Marian arched back, reveling in the new sensations coursing through her. Emboldened by his response she reached under his shirt, unfastening his belt and fumbling with his breeches, clearly straining now under the pressure. Noticing her attempt, he deftly undid the clasps, freeing himself as he continued his attentions toward her. Hesitantly, she reached down, lightly brushing his tip with her fingers. This was still quite new. He reached down, running his hand up the inside of her leg. Reaching down with a little more surety, she stroked along his shaft, relishing the feeling of his writhing attempts to hold back. Something about milking a cow came to mind; she smiled at the absurdity, then gasped lightly as he cupped her gently. “Robin!” she breathed, as he teased her. He was gathering up her skirts now. ‘So much fabric, just for one woman,’ he thought. Pushing her skirts back, the movement of the mare jostled them into each other.

“Hold on,” he instructed. She obeyed with a smile as he reached beneath her, running his hands up and under both of her thighs, lifting her up. The movement brushed her against him slightly, he smiled when she groaned in response. Their breathing quickened as he drew her up and carefully lowered her onto his throbbing length. Her eyes grew wide, and he paused, unsure if he had hurt her. She shook her head and smiled and he guided her hips, deepening their union with every step the mare took. He found some of the loops on the blanket’s girth to steady himself and resumed his attention to her breasts. Running his hands over her soft skin, he paused over a scar she’d received as the Nightwatchman. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it up over his head. She kissed him again, eagerly engaging his lips, running her tongue along his teeth, then kissing down his neck and finding his constellation of scars in return. Scars from war and scars from his escapades caring for his people. She renewed the vigor of her attentions to him, leaning into him and pushing him backwards, kissing his face and his chest, swirling her hips on his. He rewarded her with a low groan.

She laughed to herself, thinking of the awkwardness of their first coupling not too long ago. It had been a long time coming. Fumbling around near their old oak, rolling over at least a couple of rocks, making complete fools of themselves. They had planned on marrying before he went to war, before everything changed. Before she was coerced into an engagement to Gisborne. Before she left him alone at the altar. And now she was riding Robin Hood…on top of her horse!

The moon was rising and her ivory skin was outlined by the tumble of her dark curls. An elbow, or a heel, bumped the mares’ side and she walked a little faster, energizing their newfound rhythm.  
Robin could feel her thighs and her walls tensing and knew they were both on the verge of ecstasy. He sat up and she clung to him tighter. With the leverage from the straps, he leaned over her, her back on the horse’s withers now, and rutted into her, faster and deeper until she cried his name and her body was wracked with shudders, clenching at him with her thighs and bringing him over the edge with her. They rode out their orgasms with poorly stifled moans, collapsing into each other. Glistening with sweat, he brushed the hair out of her eyes and, recovering themselves, they realized that they had come to a stop near a small lake. The mare, now annoyed by the jostling of her riders, had begun to graze amid the lush vegetation.

The lovers carefully slid down and tied the patient horse to a tree, wandering down toward the lake together, leaning on each other for support – such an experience had left them both a little unsteady on their feet. The moon was now fully risen, and Robin told Marian how she had never been so beautiful to him before. His heart was hers! All of him was hers! They paddled their toes in the water, warm from the summer’s heat.

“Fancy a swim?” Robin grinned roguishly.

“I’ll race you in!” she replied eagerly. If anything, she could at least clean up a little.

With their clothes already mostly undone there was little for them to do, so they left them in a heap on the bank and dashed in. The water was warm from the afternoon sun, and they didn’t have to go far to be waist-deep. They had both learned to swim as children, and were quite happy to float around for ages. The clearing allowed them to see the stars that were now populating the sky, and they spent a moment gazing at the heavens in silence. Reminiscing, he recalled the first time he felt something in his heart toward her.

They had been playmates, along with other children, but it was always different with Marian. The other boys in the village would happily play bandits with him, and the girls would scoff and go back to their sewing, or whatever it was they did. Marian, however, was the only one who could find him when he was hiding, or sneak up on him in the woods. She was endeared to him before he knew what it was to grow up. When they were teens, their attachment was no longer like that of siblings. They had been playing a game in Sherwood that neither would admit to being too old to play, and ended up tumbling down a slight hill together. He had always insisted that she had tackled him, sending them down the incline, and she always persisted that she had crept up on him scared him, and that after his fright, he lost his balance and reached for her, taking them both down the hill.

“What are you thinking about?” she enquired, noting the amusement in his eyes.

“Remember when we rolled down that hill, as kids?”

“When I scared you?”

“When you tackled me,” he corrected, with a slight twitch of his eyebrows.

“And you were afraid you’d hurt me, because you landed on top?”

“And you rolled me over, pinning me down and claiming you got me.”

“I did get you.”

“And then the world stopped…”

“And you kissed me.”

“You kissed me back!” His boyish grin was undoing her again. She giggled, splashing him.

“Oi!” he splashed her back. They played, laughing, until they called a truce. He reached her, and they kissed again, exploring with their hands what had previously been inhibited by layers of cotton. Wandering deeper now, arms and legs entwined around each other, they continued their slow dance. It proved more difficult in the water than on solid ground, but soon he was inside of her again and she wrapped both legs around him, latching her ankles together. Kissing fervently now, he slipped on a rock and lost his balance. Marian tried to put a foot down to help catch them. They almost managed to keep their heads above the surface, which would have been a small miracle, but they were, somehow, still joined. As they came up, the new angle tightened her around his cock and they both gasped as be bucked into her. Finding his footing, he steadied her with hands on her hips, and, pulling back a little, he plunged into her. Anticipating his next thrusts, she pushed her hips down, swirling and grinding herself onto him, taking him in. Moments later, they were gasping and giggling with joy.

Releasing his shoulders, Marian floated on her back and Robin joined her, holding hands and bumping into each other a bit. He kissed her hand. “Your fingers are getting all wrinkly!” He smirked. “So are yours!” She teased. The breeze was turning cooler and, standing again, they both had a little shiver of goosebumps.

“Time for a fire, I think!” Robin led the way back to shore. Even as he held a cloak out for her, she blushed, unused to seeing each other so naked and soaked from the lake. They had shared all of themselves, and Marian’s heart was full. She was the happiest she had been since her father’s death, perhaps the happiest she had ever been, and it was all because of this perfect man, with a heart full of love for her. He grabbed his boots and cloak, and took off in search of firewood. She chuckled at the ridiculous sight of him. “What? I don’t want my clothes to get all wet!” he huffed indignantly.

Soon they had a nice, warm fire going, and, checking that her horse was secure, they laid down, nestled together in the cloaks. Robin nuzzled against the crook of her neck, kissing her tenderly. “Goodnight, my love.” She tilted her head back to kiss him, clinging to his arm about her waist. “Goodnight, Robin,” she whispered. Sleep stole over them, with the wind rustling the leaves overhead to lull them. It was easily the most restful sleep either of the warriors had had in a long time. A well-deserved rest; they would need it to face the challenges yet to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is the first fic I've ever published, and the first one containing anything more intimate than hand-holding. No judgement, please. Or do. It's a free world. I usually stick to angsty poetry, so this is quite different, but I had a story and I needed to tell it. All situations are entirely fictional, and any coincidences are not intentional. (Although I'd be highly impressed with a coincidence.)


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